


Dandelion Boy

by rubbished



Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: Angst, BoyxBoy, College Life, Flowers, Fluff, Friendship, M/M, Metathesiophobia, Romance, flower shop au, no ghouls
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-15
Updated: 2015-11-22
Packaged: 2018-04-20 21:08:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4802270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rubbished/pseuds/rubbished
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Like a flower, change is practically nature. Things change, people change, the world around us is constantly changing. But Kaneki Ken is anything but thrilled by the idea of change, in fact, he's terrified of it. He shuts himself in his own little world of routine and monotony, and shuts anyone and anything out.</p><p>Tsukiyama is a man of change, he loves the unpredictability of life and embraces it with open arms. And when he becomes interested in Kaneki, he'll do anything to make him feel the same way. </p><p>It all starts with a bouquet of flowers on his doorstep, and an anonymous note for his beloved "Dandelion Boy".</p><p> </p><p>**This is something I'm writing just for fun, updates will be sporadic and mostly infrequent.<br/>**Possible rating change for later chapters, not sure yet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. |Taraxacum officinale|

“Love can change a person the way a parent can change a baby- awkwardly, and often with a great deal of mess.”

― Lemony Snicket, "Horseradish"

 

His favorite flower was a yellow dandelion, otherwise known as the crown weed of the garden. The plant is often trampled underneath the bare feet of sprightly children, or yanked from the roots right out of the soil from unmerciful gardeners, rarely ever appreciated as an actual flower with any symbolic meaning. However, this tiny plant meant much more to Kaneki Ken than the average weed sprouting in the gardens.

The Latin name of the dandelion is Taraxacum and derives from the family of Asteraceae, and depending on the season it blooms, the plant comes in different forms. From the white fuzz that children find joy in blowing apart into the air, to the burst of small yellow petals, folding out in a sunny salutation. Because the plant is a tap rooted biennial, it is very troublesome trying to get rid of them if they are unwanted. Dandelions come back time after time, no matter how many times one rips it from the ground. Perhaps it was that aspect that fascinated Kaneki so much, how impregnable it was; able to withstand even the harshest of hands, only to flower again in day’s time. That is what added the shroud of majesty that Kaneki perceived in the flower, that something so pretty to the eye, could be so destructive and selfish. Weeds were only in existence to destroy any source of life to nourish themselves; they hack the roots of other plants and slowly kill them off. That is why, as pretty as dandelions might be, they are perceived as nothing but nuisances.

Kaneki didn’t think that he was very strong, let alone pretty, but he could relate to the weeds. Although unlike a weed, that hurts others, Kaneki was hurting himself instead. 

It wasn’t solely his existence that made him such a bother, but rather the existence he found himself falling into. It was a dangerous case of hitting a wall, something that the average person would experience later on in their lives. However, having always been more advanced than young adults his age, it was as if he were on some sort of accelerated growth plate. He was experiencing his mid-life crisis in the beginning of his time. That was when he began to see the robotic monotony taking over his life, every move he made meticulous and calculated. Deviating from his daily routine even the slightest bit was enough to send waves of irrational fear through Kaneki. Just the very thought of change seemed foreign and foolish to him. Why change the systematic routine he had set up for himself every day? Wake up bright and early, head to the campus coffee shop and enjoy the same drink he got every day while reading one of his favorite books, killing time before his first class of the day started, go to class, go home, eat dinner and go to bed early. There was no need for a break in that process, Kaneki was perfectly content living out the redundancy that had become his life, even if doing so slowly turned him into a weed.

The coffee shop was quiet today, with only a few students teeming about and still rubbing sleep from their tired eyes. With the atmosphere of the dim lighting and the calm sound of morning rain hitting the window, there was a serene sense inside that coffee shop, one of warmth and comfort. Kaneki preferred it this way; it was quiet enough for him to lose himself once again in the pages of The Black Goat’s Egg. The book had been one of Kaneki’s favorites for years, instantly falling in love by the time he finished the first chapter. Now he read it more out of familiarity, embracing himself in the comfort of the worn cover, the slightly folded pages from bookmarks of reader’s past. He knew the story like the back of his hand and would sometimes mouth the lines silently to himself for his own entertainment. That’s how it always had been, Kaneki losing himself in a story he had read countless times over, simply because it was a part of his structured routine, and that’s how it would always be. It was a great way to spend the morning before class, occasionally taking a sip of his scalding beverage and relishing the way the coffee would numb his taste buds. He hummed contentedly as the bitterness of the black drink warmed his insides. Ah, he thought to himself, now this is really heaven in a cup. 

The bell on the door of the café rang ceremoniously as a tall man entered, and Kaneki would have to be either oblivious or completely blind if he didn’t notice them. It was hard not to ignore the strange, funky patterns that adorned his clothing, let alone the unusual purple that was his hair color. And yet, despite the man’s odd fashion sense, he held an air of confidence that Kaneki was positive one had to be born with. Kaneki watched on in curiosity as the man peeled off his coat and hung it on the crook of his long arm, inhaling deeply and closing his eyes. He exhaled dramatically and brought a hand to his forehead as if he were a damsel in distress who might faint any moment.

“Ah, the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee,” He crooned, his voice a deep and charismatic falsetto. “C’est magnifique!” As he said this he gestured widely with his arms, attracting weird looks from other patrons in the shop. The man didn’t seem to notice, or care, and with a confident smile he strode over to the counter where an array of confections and pastries laid on display behind a class case. “Bonjour, Monsieur Yoshimura!”

The old man behind the counter smiled warmly. “Good morning, Mr. Tsukiyama, awfully early today, I see.”

“Nothing wrong with a little change in routine, monsieur!” The man bellowed with laughter, causing another wave of irritated looks his way. “The usual, s’il vous plaît.”

Mr. Yoshimura nodded and quickly sought off to brew his beverage. At this point the other patrons had become bored with gawking at the man and turned their attention back to their own things, but Kaneki couldn’t look away. The man was unlike anyone he’s ever seen on campus, not just because of his unusual hair and odd hair color. He looked not a day over twenty, and the fact that he spoke French so fluidly made Kaneki wonder if he was from France or perhaps was studying it here at Kami. If he had been one with the confidence to, he probably would have asked, but of course he would never do that, that would distract him from his hour and twenty minutes of enjoying his coffee and reading his book.

Grudgingly, Kaneki peeled his eyes off of him and went back to his literature. He took a sip from his coffee which had cooled down considerably to his dismay.

“Takatsuki Sen! Are you a fan of her books as well?”

Kaneki flinched at the sound of the voice and almost spilled his cup over his front. Peeking cautiously over the pages of his novel, his eyes met a pair of violet eyes that matched strangely with his styled hair. It was the man, supposedly “Mr. Tsukiyama”, standing above Kaneki with a warm smile. Up close he was much more handsome, and the way he looked down at Kaneki sent his heart racing. He didn’t like it one bit.

“U-um, yes, I am…” Kaneki stammered, his palms beginning to sweat slightly. He directed his attention back to the book as a signal for the man to go away, but the man did the exact opposite and took the seat in front of him at the small table.

“Mon dieu, I don’t think I’ve ever met another fan! Monochrome Rainbow was among one of my favorites!”

As awkward as Kaneki felt about the stranger’s forwardness, it was the first time he had met someone that had actually read one of Sen’s works, especially Monochrome Rainbow which was incidentally another one of Kaneki’s favorites. Curiosity overcame discomfort, and The Black Goat’s Egg found its way onto the table. “It’s one of my favorites too.”

“Really?” His grin widened, splitting slightly so Kaneki could see a peek of perfect white teeth.

“Y-yeah,” Kaneki’s cheeks flushed a soft pink and he looked down at his hands sheepishly. “I thought it was extraordinary.”

The latter beamed and leaned forward slightly. “I feel the same way, mon ami. But, oh, where are my manners?” He extended a hand over the table. “My name is Tsukiyama Shuu.”

Kaneki looked at the waiting hand for a long moment, then shook it with his own, quickly pulling it back to wipe the sweat off of his hands. Thankfully, Tsukiyama was graceful enough to not mention it. “Kaneki… Kaneki Ken.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Tsukiyama retracted his hand with a smile and Kaneki quickly looked away, feeling the blush on his cheeks shade a deeper red. Why was he so nervous?

A waiter comes by, one with glasses and a mop of sandy blonde hair on his head. He had a grumpy look on his face as he set Tsukiyama’s coffee on the table, grumbling “here’s your order, sir” before quickly disappearing where he came from. Tsukiyama brought the ceramic mug to his lips and took an experimental sip. As he did this Kaneki couldn’t help but note how soft his lips looked when he pursed them, but as soon as the thought came into his head he quickly pushed it away. It was bad enough that he was talking to this gentleman instead of reading.

Tsukiyama gulped down his drink and sighed happily. “Très bien. Anteiku never ceases to amaze me with their excellent coffee!”

Kaneki nodded in agreement, then he decided to venture. “Are you a regular here?”

“Oui! I come here nearly every day!” He rested his head on one of his hands, regarding Kaneki with cat-like eyes. “Although I don’t think I have never seen you here before. I would have remembered seeing a face like yours.”

Wait, was he coming on to me? That sent Kaneki into a blushing, stuttering mess. He rubbed the back of his neck shyly. “O-oh, ah, I-I come here early every morning before my first class. I-I haven’t seen you around either.”

The latter’s fingers circled playfully along the rim of the mug, a dreamy look gracing his features. “Most of my classes around noon, so I never found the need to come here so early. But now that I met you, mon cher, I think I might start.” He winked playfully.

Oh, no, no, no, no. Absolutely not. Kaneki was breaking into a cold sweat. Not only was he used to being exposed to so much excitement so early in the morning, but he had never been hit on before. And especially by a man? That was enough to push Kaneki over the edge of his comfort zone, and with feverish movements, he quickly grabbed his novel and stuffed it into his bag and slinging it over his shoulder. When he went to stand up, he moved too quickly and his knee bumped against the table, making it shake noisily. Kaneki’s breath became ragged and his heart beat wildly in his chest as people gave him odd looks. He had to get out of here.

“I-I-I’m terribly sorry, Mr. Tsukiyama, but I h-have to go n-now…” Kaneki stumbled over his words in a rush of strangled air, and before the latter could even respond he nearly sprinted out of the café and out into the light rainfall. He didn’t even stop to take out his umbrella, which he had meticulously placed in his bag for the oncoming weather forecast.

Kaneki kept running until he reached the Japanese Literature building, it was then that he stopped to catch his breath, and then make his way to his first class that morning. Still shaken up from the encounter, he didn’t notice how empty the classroom was until he took his designated seat in the front with a heavy sigh of relief. When he did finally notice, he took out his cell phone to check the time, surely he wasn’t too early for class. He did leave earlier from the café than expected, but that didn’t mean that he was completely off schedule, right? It took nearly every ounce of his courage to turn his phone on and check the time, his heart ready to burst out of his chest and his breath heavier then than it was after running across campus. The screen to his phone lit up, and a sense of horror came crashing down upon him like a pile of bricks on his groin. He read the numbers once, then again to make sure his eyes weren’t deceiving him. But it was right there, as clear as day, the time reading 8:40.

He was twenty minutes early. 

✿ ❀ ✿ ❀ ✿ ❀ ✿

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there, this is B!~ I hope you enjoyed the prologue of my latest fanfic "Dandelion Boy"! I'm so excited to write more about my little sugar dumpling Kaneki and his French-speaking trash baby~~ 
> 
> This is my first fanfic that will have chapters so please go easy on me, yeah? 
> 
> Please let me know what you think! Any feedback helps! And please let me know if there are any spelling or grammar errors.
> 
> This fic is also on Quotev under my other username "tangerine-chan/ smiling tangerine" 
> 
>    
> Tsukiyama’s French Notes:  
> ❀Bonjour- Hello  
> ❀Monsieur- Sir/Mr.  
> ❀s’il vous plaît- Please  
> ❀Mon dieu- My God!/Oh my God!  
> ❀mon ami- My friend (masculine)  
> ❀Très bien- Very good  
> ❀Oui- Yes  
> ❀mon cher- My dear/dearest (masculine)


	2. |Gardenia jasminoides|

Throughout his Japanese Literature class, Kaneki couldn’t think straight. He felt an overbearing weight on his chest that made it hard to breathe, as if an elephant were sitting on him, and his Oxford button-up shirt was damp in a cold sweat. His hands were trembling so hard he could hardly get a good grip on his pencil and take notes like he was supposed to. How quickly his life of irrevocable structure and order had come crumbling down in only a matter of minutes, it was a type of remarkable that frightened Kaneki to no end. Dread pooled in the pit of his stomach, and if others weren’t around, he might have fainted right then and there. But there was one thing Kaneki hated as much as change and that was unwanted attention. So for the time being, Kaneki tried to steel himself against the waves of panic and muddle thoughts plaguing his mind.  


It was easier said than done, however. His thoughts kept wandering to the man who had thrown his routine out of its loop, the unpredictable French-speaking man with hair and eyes the color of violets. 

Kaneki squeezed his eyes shut and ran a shaky hand through his already disheveled hair. That had been just about the hundredth time he let his mind wander back to the man at the coffee shop, and every time he did so that sense of dread would worsen. 'None of this is right,' Kaneki thought to himself as he tried to concentrate on the lecture his professor was giving to the class. 'I can’t let someone have this much power over me. I need to focus. '

Fortunately, Kaneki only zoned out a few more times before class ended. And as other studies tiredly shuffled out of the classroom, he scrambled to pack up his things and follow suit. He was determined to not let one thrown wrench in his plans keep him from staying on his scheduled routine. 

The rain had died down to an even softer drizzle as Kaneki stepped out of the literature building. Not feeling the need for the umbrella, he strolled with purpose through campus, relishing the heavy smell of dew in the air. Kaneki began to feel silly for allowing himself to be so affected by one small thing. Who doesn’t have their off days now and again? Now all he had to do was make sure that it doesn’t happen again. Just thinking about it, rose Kaneki’s spirits. From now on, no more terribly handsome French-speaking distractions to ruin his day. 

The rest of Kaneki’s classes were smooth sailing. By the time he had reached his third and last class of the day, that being Japanese history, thoughts of Mr. Tsukiyama were little to none. It was as if the encounter at Antieku never happened. In high spirits, Kaneki left his class, ready to make his way back to the dorm rooms and jump right into his two and a half hour block of homework and study time. 

The trek was comfortable, the rain finally drying out and the sun poking out from the skyline of gray clouds. Kaneki reached his dorm room with just an elevator trip to the second floor. As he reached the door to his space he exhaled a sigh of relief, his dorm became more like a shelter from any anomalies in routine, and with that comforting thought he tiredly fished out his set of keys from his bag and unlocked the door. Hardly paying attention to his surroundings and blindly stumbling inside, Kaneki didn’t notice what was laying on the floor of the entrance until he stepped on it. The abrupt noise of his sneaker coming down on what sounded like tissue paper startled him and he quickly retracted his foot as if it were alive. He looked down warily, but in the darkness of the dorm room, Kaneki could barely make out the silhouette of the foreign item. Thankfully however, whatever it was wasn’t alive, and with a shaky breath the young student flipped on the light to see who his intruder really was. 

What he saw was the last thing he had expected to see that day, or any other day. But lo and behold they lay, a bouquet of the prettiest snow-white flowers Kaneki had ever laid eyes on. The petals bloomed outward like a jagged, haphazard star, its center folded in on itself as if keeping a secret. The smell of them was nearly intoxicating, the sweetest of floral ambrosia. They were slightly crumpled from Kaneki’s unforgiving shoe, but even so their beauty still radiated through the thin plastic covering keeping the bouquet intact. There was a massive purple silk ribbon tied around the base of the bouquet, contrasting perfectly with the flowers, whoever had gotten these must’ve paid a fortune. 

More shocked than anything, Kaneki carefully scooped up the abused flower arrangement (to the best of his ability with shaky hands) and moved to place them onto the counter in his small kitchenette. 

“What the hell...?” The student whispered softly to himself, staring at the bouquet as theories were being mulled over in his head. Perhaps whoever sent these put them in the wrong dorm? But then there was the question of how they got into the dorm in first place. It wasn't uncommon to request a key from the help desk back in the dorm lobby, but Kaneki didn’t know anyone that would go through the trouble go all this. His eye caught what seemed to be a small envelope peeking out from the wrapping and his heart started to beat wildly. These must be for someone else, he thought to himself. But it wouldn’t hurt just to peek and make sure. 

Gingerly, Kaneki fished the envelope from the arrangement. As his thumb brushed the opening of the letter he began to feel bad. What if it wasn’t for him? Then he’d be invading on what seems to be something intimate for someone else. However, there was that possibility of it actually being for him that gleaned over his reason. Deciding that he would immediately close it if the letter had nothing to do with him, his conscience was quelled for the moment as he opened the note. 

The stationary was thick and slightly rough, the distinct smell of pungent cologne wafting off the parchment. Kaneki inhaled the scent of flowers and herbal spices, it was unlike anything he smelled before, but it was pleasant. It was a little feminine to mark your letters with a signature scent, but it was still pleasant. 

Kaneki unfolded the letter, taking in the big loopy handwriting inscribed in dark ink. The writing looked elegant, almost like a historian had written it with a feathered pen, but it was filled with purpose, marching along the page. Kaneki admired the handwriting a moment longer, mostly to stall from actually reading the words. However, he eventually was able to swallow down the lump in his throat and ignore the incessant hammering of his heart. 

'My dearest Dandelion Boy, 

Consider I Romeo, and you my dazzling Juliet.'

Kaneki frowned, it didn’t seem like it was for him, but the mention of dandelions however caught his attention. He continued to read. 

'From the moment I had laid eyes on you, I knew I had never seen anything as lovely and pure. Like a diamond among the rubble of coal, or a blazing star shining over the shrouded mask of the city lights. I could go on for hours, days, years trying to find a way to describe how lovely you are, only to come up short. No words could compare to you, my darling. And with that knowledge, I promised I would hold my secret close to me, and wait for the moment when you hold that secret close as well. 

Until then,

-❁' 

Kaneki’s hands were shaking so bad that the letter slipped from his grasp and back onto the counter. As short as the letter was, the passion and intimacy written in every word was so apparent that Kaneki almost felt light-headed. The note was practically dripping with emotion. He plopped down noisily into a chair and ran his trembling hands through his hair, his breath coming out in choked gasps. He was absolutely, undoubtedly mortified, his cheeks flushed such a violent red that they could rival the ripest of tomatoes. Was this some kind of practical joke? Could this be someone from class poking fun at him for their own personal gain. Kaneki side-eyed the printing of the company name on the plastic wrapping, instantly recognizing that it was from the little flower shop off the side of the campus. Then, as if a puppeteer had pulled his strings, Kaneki was snatching up the bouquet and his keys, walking back out into the dewey afternoon, his routine plans of studying left behind.

 

✿ ❀ ✿ ❀ ✿ ❀ ✿ 

 

The Enchanted Garden wasn’t too long of a walk on a nice day, but with how frenzied Kaneki was to reach his destination, he made it there in almost half of the time. Thankfully the shop was still opened, and Kaneki was welcomed to the soft jingle of a bell and the pleasantly overpowering aroma of freshly cut flowers. The small space was overflowing with a spectrum of different colored plants, it was as if an impressionist painted had doused the entire area in their work. Soft music that sounded almost like jazz flooded the room, and for the first time since earlier this morning before the whole debacle, Kaneki felt at peace. 

He clutched the flowers a little closer to himself, the letter poking his side from the pocket of his jacket as if to remind him, as he made his way to the vacant cashier desk. Tentatively, he rang the bell that was seated at the desk, and a low voice called out from the back that they were coming. 

Kaneki waited patiently, childishly trying to ignore the offending bouquet in his hand by looking around at all the other plants provided in the store. There were some that he could easily name off, Roses, Tulips, and Higanbanas. He remembered how much his mother loved higanbanas, but the memory formed a putrid taste in his mouth. He quickly pushed it away with a furtive shake of his head, then jumped slightly at the clearing of someone’s throat. 

“Ahem, my apologies for keeping you waiting, Monsieur.” 

Kaneki’s heart jumped up into his throat as he turned towards the sound of the familiar voice, that same dread that he had felt pooling in his stomach. Every nerve his body screamed at him to run, but his feet were rooted to the ground, his hands helplessly at his sides and still clutching the flowers. His eyes hesitantly met the violet ones of Mr. Tsukiyama, and the man smiled slyly.

“Two encounters in one day?” His grin grew wider as he leaned over the desk in his green work apron. “It must be fate.” 

“U-uh, I-I-I...” Kaneki stammered, his hands trembling as he tried to form coherent words. Mr. Tsukiyama rested his head in his hand, tilting his head to the side with half-lidded eyes.

“Are you always this articulate, mon cher?” 

It was Kaneki’s turn to clear his throat and he laugh nervously to break the tension. “H-ha ha. S-sorry, Mr. Tsukiyama.” 

The lavender-haired man waved a hand dismissively. “Oh please, mon ami. Call me, Tsukiyama. Now what brings you to this side of town? You look liked you’ve seen a ghost.” 

If ghosts wore aprons. Kaneki laughed awkwardly again, tugging absentmindedly at his sleeve with his free hand. “O-oh, I was just uh, around.”

The latter raised an eyebrow in amusement. “Really?” He leaned further across the table and pointed a long, delicate finger towards the bouquet in Kaneki’s hand. “Or are you actually here for that?”

Heat crawled into Kaneki’s cheeks with a jolt at having been caught in his lie. He looked down bashfully and placed the bouquet onto the counter. The embarrassment he felt was almost unbearable, it was as if he were flashing his underwear for everyone to see. 

Tsukiyama’s reaction didn’t help circumstances, he cooed and fawned dramatically over the arrangement. “Well, aren’t these beautiful! Looks like our little Kaneki Ken has a secret admirer!”

Kaneki flushed, looking down at his hands as he wrung them together. “Y-yeah. I was wondering... the flowers came from here, can you tell me who bought them?”

“Non!” The latter put his hand up and looked away in theatric defiance. “It would be rude of me to expose the anonymity of your admirer! That ruins the mystère! And besides, chérie, even if I wanted to help, I could not.” He put his hand to his heart apologetically. “Customer confidentiality, sorry.”

“Oh.” Kaneki sighed, crestfallen. How was he supposed to find his admirer now? Were they meant to forever stay anonymous? 

Tsukiyama noticed the latter’s disappointment, and with a soft chuckle, he gestured to the bouquet before him. “I can however, tell you what these fleurs are.” 

'Might as well, I came all the way here.' Kaneki shrugged, watching as Tsukiyama carefully moved the arrangement towards him. With long, delicate fingers that looked liked they belong of a pianist, he softy stroked the felt of each snow white petal. The man’s expression loss its coy amusement and was replaced with a far away look, lost in the depths of a dream. Kaneki couldn’t help but stare at the latter with a hint of admiration. Never in his life had he met someone as graceful as Tsukiyama, it was like he was on another level completely. In the last moments Kaneki realized how intensely he had been staring and quickly looked away cheeks aflame. He prayed Tsukiyama hadn’t noticed his gawking as he finally looked away from the bouquet. 

“Ah, 'Gardenia jasminoides',” He handed the flowers back. “Otherwise known as gardenias. Whoever your admirer is, mon cher, they have quite a meticulous taste.”

Kaneki accepted the bouquet and held it close to his chest, now knowing some kind of information. “Really? How do you know?”

Tsukiyama leaned away and began to busy himself with matters behind the counter, speaking almost absentmindedly or dismissively. “One who sends fleurs as specific as those are more interested in the flower language rather than their appearance.”

“Flower language?” His knowledge on the topic will minuscule, but Kaneki was familiar with the term. 

“Oui, the symbolic message in each flower. Blame it on the Victorian’s and their romantic ways.” He placed a hand faintly on his forehead, swooning for extra dramatic effect. “They were true lovers!”

Kaneki bit his lip. “So what does a gardenia mean?” 

“Ah, yes. Well, gardenias come in different colors and species. One-hundred-and-forty-two to be exact. 'Actinocarpa', 'cambodiana'… the list goes on. This particular flower, being as white as the first snowfall, symbolizes purity.” 

Not knowing how purity had anything to do with him, Kaneki went to speak, but was quickly cut off by Tsukiyama’s hand. 

“The gardenia as an entire species is usually given to someone that the sender finds lovely, somewhat of a subtle compliment, if you will.”

Kaneki’s mind went reeling. 'I could go on for hours, days, years trying to find a way to describe how lovely you are, only to come up short.'

Tsukiyama, twirled a lavender lock around his finger thoughtfully as he continued. “It could also stand for the secret love that the sender harbors for the receiver. Mon dieu, it’s amazing how much a flower can talk!” 

“No kidding.” Kaneki mumbled weakly, feeling light headed. Is that what his admirer had meant about their secret? A secret love? 

'And with that knowledge, I promised I would hold my secret close to me, and wait for the moment when you hold that secret close as well.'

His heart dropped, the realization that this wasn’t over hitting him like a pile of bricks on his groin. He could hardly concentrate on Tsukiyama’s theatric monologue about the beauty of flower langauage. Kaneki could feel that same cold sweat and sense of dread coming on, and he wondered if anything will be the same again. 

✿ ❀ ✿ ❀ ✿ ❀ ✿

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, this chapter took forever to write. I hadn't expected it to take so long, but I was having a horrendous case of writer's block when starting the few paragraphs. Weirdly enough, after binge reading some Undertale fics, I got the DETERMINATION to keep writing this one. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! Any feedback helps!
> 
> -B
> 
> Tsukiyama’s French Notes:  
> ❀ mystère- mystery  
> ❀ fleurs- flowers


End file.
